A bit ago, a dedicated County Supervisor’s newsletter mentioned that his County Budget included a significant amount of money for Mosquito control.  He suggested that all the citizens of his Beat patrol their yards and neighborhoods and turn over any container that held water so as to help keep down proliferation of the terrible pests.  I hope they acted on his suggestion.  Not only will expenses in his Beat decrease, but perhaps we’ll have fewer cases of plagues and fevers than in years past.  I was reminded of a man, his mule, and his big heart. He was once my neighbor, Mr. Ollie Deloach. 

Upon coming back to Laurel in 1974, I moved out on Bush Dairy Road to a place my Dad left me.  It was a cabin about ½ mile off the road down a little road named Standing Red, a Choctaw Indian name for Tallahoma.  An elderly gentleman who had for many, many years been close to my father came calling.  His name was Mr. Ollie Deloach, and I had known him since I was a little boy.  Uncle Ollie, as he had always told me to address him, was so kind, always smiling through his long, white, unkempt beard.  So clear to me now are the eyes sparkling under that hat, dusty around the crooked brim.

That day I was digging a small garden in the yard, and he insisted upon going home and coming back with his mule to properly plow the vegetable patch.  He did, and in the end there lay eight perfect, straight rows.  I tried plowing, failed beyond imagination.  His skill was more than strength, it was creative and kind, more about partnering with the mule, his friend and collaborator.

Anyway, Uncle Ollie lived across the road on a hill top on Section 16 School land.  His home, set 200 feet, or so, off the gravel trail that wound up the hill past his little church, was of unpainted wood siding built some 3 feet off the ground on sandstone piers.  This front yard was littered (wait not littered, covered) with junk, well, junk to me.  There were old plumbing fixtures, bicycles, lamps, household appliances, used vehicle tires, old lawn mowers, on and on was just more ‘stuff’.  This was all his stuff, and his stuff was set aside to fix other stuff around the neighborhood.  Some child’s bicycle sprocket would break, and Uncle Ollie would find and install the replacement after searching the yard for a matching one.  Mrs. Barnett’s washing machine would quit, and here would come Uncle Ollie with some tools and a few parts sure the make the fix. His big ole fingers, a screw driver and a pair of pliers made many neighbors smile when got finished.

Twisting through this “parts warehouse” of stuff was a little dusty foot path worn smooth by his bare feet. Oh, I left out the part about his usually being barefoot.  That garden day, he plowed barefoot.  I later had the notion that it was to feel the cool, fresh dirt; some unnoticed sense assuring him that the rows were up to the standards demanded by his partner.  Regardless, midway along the path, there was a widening, a round-about, and in the center was a 55 gallon drum open at the top.  

One day early that summer, much like today, I took some new potatoes that I had dug with a fork from the garden that he had given me. I drove my VW up the hill to his house and stepped out at the entrance to the little path.  There in the widening, acrid smoke, thick and black rose from the drum.  In the drum was burning tire rubber.  Sitting on a stool before the drum was Uncle Ollie hard at work on some project or another. Down the path I went and was invited to have a seat. There we sat talking over times, mules, gardens, weather, and projects; and new potatoes.  No mosquitoes, no flies, no gnats anywhere in sight.

Ok, so the cure might have been worse than the disease.  Still, the picture of that wonderful man hard at work, surrounded by his stuff and so full of good will and good friendship, will never fade away.  Thank goodness that the tire smoke did.  I have said here before, “Some people never die”. They are the ones who live snuggly in our hearts.  I know he lives on in the hearts of his children.  It’s in their eyes too.

By the way, did you know that the water you use to first boil new potatoes needs to be thrown out?  Uncle Ollie said it contained some stomach upset bug.  I don’t know if it is true, but I believe it. Do you?